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You take a few days after your return from Hawthorne and start packing for Zion. Not knowing what you need, you decide…
Shit you forgot about House. That’s not going to be a pleasant conversation.
A quick trip with the transportalponder and you’re on the Sink Balcony. You take a few deep breaths and steady yourself before entering.
[Hey everyone, I’m back!]
Doc: Welcome back! Hope I’m not patching you up this time.
Muggy: Hey Courier, are you fucking crazy or fucking stupid for being that cocksucker House here? The least you could do is bring me some mugs!!!!
Blind Diode Jefferson: Good to see you, Six. That brain in the jar is down waiting for you. Word to the wise, he is NOT happy.
[Thanks, J. Wish me luck.]
Book Chute: Beware, Courier! I’ve heard rumors that Edward House is in cahoots with the Commies!
You highly doubt that.
BRS: Oh please tell me you’ve brought me your seed, PLE-
You hurry to the elevator and jump in before you hear anymore from that freak.
Stepping out of the elevator, you see the members of the formerly illustrious Think Tank gathered around something in the center of the auditorium, their robotic backs to you.
You enter quietly.
Dr. O: And now look at you, just some fleshy lump in a jar and we’re fleshly lumps in a jar that hover!
The scientists are gathered around a pedestal in the center of the room, with what you assume is House’s brain floating in a jar defaced by many lewd drawings and doodles.
Klein: COURIER, YOUR EXPERIMENT IS REFUSING TO REACT TO OUR BULLYING.
Borous: What’s the plan with him? Put the brain in a big slug, unable to do anything but sit there in misery? I read a book about it once.
You refuse to play in their petty games. For all your conflict with him, House isn’t a plaything of yours.
[Neither. I was told he’s out of his coma. Has he said anything?]
8: $$;$:@@/$;-“?!.&/8/) (When he woke, he asked where he was. After telling him he was at Big Mountain, the sheer awesomeness of our intellect must have cowed him.)
House: Because I refuse to give attention to these pissants. They’re not worth the grey matter I squeeze out from the fissures of my brain.
Gross.
[Mr. House, I’m glad to see you make it out of surgery alright. I came as soon as I heard you awoke.]
House: No doubt to gloat and inform me what manner of hell I’ll be stuck in until you become bored and feed me to the dogs, yes? So, Courier, why am I still alive? Why did you unplug me from my system, keep me alive in my rotting body, just to drag me <span class="mu-i">here</span> of all places?
That’s actually a good question. You have one of the most intelligent and capable men of pre-war America in a jar in front of you. And you’ve made him your sworn enemy. Why is House still alive?
>Respond/ask questions
